


Fair and Foul

by editorbit



Series: Jerome & Jeremiah Character Studies(?) [14]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Jeremiah Valeska Being a Jerk, One Shot, Pre-Laughing Toxin Jeremiah Valeska, Soft Jerome Valeska, and also a little, and shakespeare, ft. cake, once again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:08:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21805303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editorbit/pseuds/editorbit
Summary: "Fair is foul, and foul is fair. Hover through the fog and filthy air."- Shakespeare
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska & Jerome Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska/Jerome Valeska
Series: Jerome & Jeremiah Character Studies(?) [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1514969
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Fair and Foul

It’s their birthday today. 

He hadn’t noticed it right away. The day had started off like any other. Waking up, making coffee, working. It wasn’t until a while later into the day he’d caught the sight of a post-it note taped to and almost illuminated by one of the many screens. Today’s date along with the word "birthday" were written on it in his own neat handwriting. Then it dawned on him. He turned yet another year older today. Yet another year in his maze. His elaborate maze keeping the world out and him inside. Yet another year alone. Perhaps not all alone, but still very much alone. Yet another year hidden behind a fake name and hiding from the world. 

Fifteen years have passed now. Fifteen birthdays much like this one. Fifteen birthdays spent alone. 

Jeremiah sits in his chair by the screens and looks at the bright yellow note stuck to the screen. Faint memories of birthdays spent outside under the bright sun. Most of them had been days like any other days. The trailer occupied and the two of them on their own to make this day special somehow. Cake was rare, as were any congratulations. Not to mention gifts, or lack thereof. Sometimes they’d just play together like siblings, something that got rarer and rarer as years passed. They’d chase each other around for hours on end, laughter filling the warm air around them. They’d play hide and seek. Jeremiah would count, as far as to fifty, and Jerome would go hide. Covering his eyes with his hands, Jeremiah would hear his brother running, further and further away to go hide. Jeremiah almost never found him. To be the much louder of the two, Jerome could hide if he wanted. It was like he disappeared off the planet, leaving Jeremiah behind. Whenever it was his turn to hide, Jerome always found him, no matter how quiet he was. 

Sometimes, when their birthday happened to occur while the circus was in a city, they’d go to the store together. Before slipping out of the trailer, Jeremiah would pull some bills right out of their mother’s wallet and shove them into his pocket. She never noticed. She was too drunk to notice. She didn’t even know what day it was, drunk or sober. Did he feel bad? Perhaps not, but he was a little child back then, he tells himself. He didn’t know any better, especially not with a sibling like Jerome. Jerome would have done the same, and he did do the same. He’s later come to the conclusion that Jerome was an influence on him, just like the alcohol was on their mother. A bad influence.

They’d walk down the isles of the store together, looking at all the candy, the food, the cheap grocery store cake. Counting the bills, Jeremiah took one. It was all he could afford with the little money he had stolen. They’d sit down outside and share it. And sometimes, if they didn’t have any money, he’d steal. Jeremiah had on several occasions slipped some candy into his pocket as he walked by which he’d proceeded to hand to Jerome once they were alone on the other side of the store. Jerome had done the exact same. Looking back on it, Jeremiah wonders how he’d let Jerome affect him like that. He’d stolen, once again, like some common criminal. Jerome stole things. Their mother had caught him several times. If he stepped anywhere near her wallet, she’d know. She never caught Jeremiah. Jeremiah knew she’d never suspect him. Jeremiah took that to his advantage, manipulating the situation like some thief. Like Jerome would.  
Putting a stop to their grocery store birthday excursions, Jeremiah had told on him, told on Jerome. He told their mother Jerome had made him steal, forced him to take it all, because he had, in a way he had. He put it all out on the table in front of her. Jeremiah never stole anything again. Bad people steal.

Their mother had remembered once. There had been no cake, no party, no decorations, but she’d remembered. Waiting for him in the trailer that day had been a book, a fairly thick one. Jeremiah had never owned a book before and he was pretty excited. It was old by the looks of it and a name he vaguely recognised was on the cover. His first, proper birthday gift. Jerome on the other hand, came home later that evening to nothing but silence and Jeremiah sitting on his bed, reading. Jerome had sat and watched him read until he fell asleep. The book had been gone the next day. Jeremiah never saw it again, but he knew where it went. Jerome had taken it. Their mother had not been very happy. 

Jeremiah exhales, fingers rubbing his temples as if that will make all the memories go away. They linger in his mind like shadows of the past and they mess with his concentration. He reaches out to remove the post-it note, curling it up in his hand. He absentmindedly throws it away before turning away to stand. 

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here." The poisonous voice stops him and he turns back. Jerome stares back at him through the screen, eerie smile and piercing eyes almost boring into him. "Happy birthday."


End file.
